The Story Of My Sit
We started the journey lugging everything we would could take out to the perimeter of the woods where we would be spending the night, along with logs for the sacred fire. The site was accessed by sloshing through field, swamp, and stream until we came to a little peninsula hugged by a clear brook that had cut its way deep into the land.
As Marc, the apprentice learning to run the protective ceremony, readied the fire, the other apprentices and I walked off to find our spots in the woods. My spot was a small grove of beech and pine, the outer edges surrounded by brambles and underbrush. I set my blanket and mask down, and felt the space out. I tried moving a few times, but the space kept calling me back. Yes. This was the space I was supposed to use.
I returned to see Marc beginning ceremony with the first apprentice to return to the fire. When it came to be my turn, Marc threw purifying herbs into the fire as I used the smoke to smudge myself. I then made offerings to my spirits and ancestors, pouring an herbal mix into the fire. Marc grabbed a small bowl with what looked like mud, and globbed some on my brow, speaking a blessing. I don’t remember most of it, but it invoked ancestors and safety, ending with “You are loved.”
Now, for some reason, that struck me. I tend to think of the universe as a powerful, but rather generally ambivalent power. Working with ancestors, and beings that care about one’s well being is still sometimes a foreign thing to me. I usually tend to accept things at face value, as things that just happen. I played with the idea that I am going into the forest alone physically, yet cared for by non-corporeal beings that were invested in my well being. In short, I got the warm and fuzzies.
So, I began the process of sitting there all night, by back supported by the trunk of a dead pine. I stared at the horde of mosquitoes covering my Carhartt clad legs, appreciative of the thick material impenetrable by the blood suckers’ mouth needles. I stared at the stag mask I had made to use later in the night to connect to the animal spirit I work with. Lost in thought, I glanced up, only to lock eyes with a doe.
She was about 50 feet away, very large, and staring at me. Not in a startled way, as you would normally see with a deer next to the road, but passively inquisitive. We looked at each other for about two minutes before she slowly wandered deeper into the brambles until she was out of sight.
Considering that a good start, I continued my Sit. Eventually, I heard a strange sound from the woods to my right. Like something big blowing its nose. A buck! Making aggressive trumpet sounds at something, potentially me. They usually aren’t aggressive at this point of the year, so it was rather odd. The rest of that story plays into another apprentice’s experience, sitting on the other side of the woods patch where the buck was making a racket. For my part, I sat there wondering if I’d be wrestling an aggressive buck that night. His trumpeting sounds faded away, though, so I knew that he wouldn’t pose a problem to me.
An exciting non-sequiteur in the evening as the sun disappeared was the appearance of a flying squirrel. I had heard about them living up here, but for the longest time I didn’t believe it. I had never seen one! Of course, as they are nocturnal, they’re pretty easy to miss. Still, seeing my first flying squirrel was exciting, and worth a mention.
As the night continued, the exhaustion and the uncomfort began to set in. I’d suddenly dip into vivid dreams that ranged from useful insight into my subconscious to utter nonsense, only to rip myself back to the grove I was sitting in. Every hour, I could hear Marc drumming in the distance, making offerings for our safety, as well as to the ancestors and spirits to help with our work.
About one in the morning was when I decided to start working with my mask. And, wow! I believe the biggest part of my experience was reconnecting to my Stag. Deer was one of the first animals that I strongly connected to when I started this work. He would always poke his antlered head up in my work from time to time, but not like this. We spoke that night, and reconnected. He told me what he would help me with in my work, and we talked about ways that I could honor him, and strengthen our connection.
I would say between three and four was the longest hour that night. We returned to the dying fire around five, and trudged to the farmhouse up the hill to journal while Sandy made us breakfast. It wasn’t quite what I expected, but I’m still processing it, almost a week later. I think that it was definitely what I needed.
Inspired by this experience, I believe I’ll discuss masks a little bit next week.
Until then, have a beautiful week
-The Green Mountain Mage